


"It was enchanting to meet you."

by AnAngelAndHisDemon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Enchanted - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Nothing Supernatural, Post High School, novak - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngelAndHisDemon/pseuds/AnAngelAndHisDemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the song "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift, Sam is forcing Dean to go with him to his ten-year high school reunion even though Dean knows he is just going to be the third wheel to him and his new boyfriend, Gabriel Novak, who is trying to convince his older brother Castiel to attend the same party. Gabriel and Sam find each other easily, but unsettled by the crowd, Dean and Castiel drift off and accidentally meet, hitting it off immediately. They leave each other that night both wishing they had gone farther and wondering if they will ever have the chance to again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “You’re lucky I don’t have plans tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based off the song "Enchanted", I took a lot of inspiration from that song, but I prefer the Adam Young/Owl City cover of the song and listen to that more than the Taylor Swift version.  
> I intended this to be one chapter but it kind of got away from me, so it's just going to be a four part thing, each chapter having both the perspective of Castiel and Dean.  
> Thanks for reading and enjoy! :)

One side longer than the other, wide end under the narrow end, back through the hole, pull down, tighten. Wide side over, pull back behind, through the knot, tighten…nothing. Just knots upon knots with a few tangles here and there. Okay, deep breath, repeat; wide under narrow, through the hole, tighten…

           

“This is friggin’ pointless!” Dean barked, throwing his tie on the ground in annoyance.

           

There was an audible sigh from the other room, and Sam came walking in, his dress pants freshly tailored, his button down shirt wrinkle-free, his tie straightened nicely and crisp under his starched collar. The only thing Dean’s little brother lacked was his suit jacket, which he imagined the younger man still had to iron in order for it to be absolutely perfect.

           

“What’s wrong now, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice laced with condensation.

           

Dean wrinkled his nose; he hated when his brother tried to act superior to him. “Who the hell needs to wear a damn tie? I didn’t even wanna go to this damn reunion in the first place!”

           

Sam frowned and crossed his arms. “I know you’re against this Dean, but the least you could do is go for me. Because I asked you.”

           

“With those…puppy dog eyes! You looked abused!”

           

“Not my fault,” He shrugged, concealing a knowing smirk, and looked at the tie on the floor. “Were you…is that a _Platt knot_?!”

           

“Uh…I was just tying it how you showed me—”

           

Sam groaned and stalked over. “You clearly weren’t, because I was specifically showing you a _Half-Windsor_ knot, _not_ a _Platt_ knot.”

           

Dean rolled his eyes, letting his brother fidget with the formalities. “Why does it matter?”

           

“It makes all the difference!” Sam scoffed. “A Platt knot is for a very specific type of dress shirt coupled with a…”

           

Dean tuned his brother out as he started to give his little sermon about how to properly tie ties and whatever. Dean really didn’t have a point for going; it was for a ten year high school reunion for Sam, and Dean was only being dragged to this stupid thing in the first place because his brother said he wasn’t going to have anyone to go with and showing up alone was just embarrassing.

           

…Until he hit it off with one of his former classmates a short while ago, a mischievous young lad named Gabriel that Dean definitely didn’t remember, so now Sam had a date and Dean was just going to be the awkward third wheel in a room full of adults that are at the peak of their lives, settling down and starting families, moving up in their careers, and the like. Dean had never gone to his high school reunion for that very reason; he didn’t want to have to face all his old friends again and admit how he had dropped out of college and had taken over his dad’s car repair shop—talk about embarrassing. Dean had tried desperately to weasel out of this one, but Sam said it would be good for him.

           

“Maybe you’ll meet someone Dean!” Sam had said excitedly; he was always trying to set his brother up with someone, whether it was co-workers, friends of friends, anyone really.

           

Dean just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Sam, I don’t _need_ anyone right now.”

           

Sam hadn’t understood what Dean meant, but that was because Sam had been so happy with his new boy toy—he didn’t see why Dean wouldn’t want what he had, but honestly, Dean was perfectly fine on his own.

           

But Sam said that when he looked at Dean, he only saw loneliness.

           

Dean found the notion…unpleasant.

           

“There,” Sam finished, patting the tie on his chest with a smile.

           

“Thanks,” Dean grumbled, adjusting it so he didn’t choke to death. Sam watched him for a moment and opened his mouth to say something when his phone went off in the other room, and he rushed out to get it. Dean smiled softly; it was nice to see that Sam was taking this relationship seriously and was truly happy for once in his life. He didn’t know how long it would last, but it was past the first two weeks, which generally was about the average length of dating for Sam’s lovers, so that was a good sign.

           

“Okay, well we’ll be ready in probably the next ten or fifteen minutes,” Dean heard Sam say into the phone. There was a pause, and he added, “So we’ll meet you there in about an hour?” Pause. “Great, great…oh really?…No, no, that’ll be…yea, well, I’ll see you in a few.”

           

Sam ended the call and walked into Dean’s room, a wide smile on his face. “Ready?”

           

“You two aren’t going to make-out the whole time like you did at the movies, will you?”

           

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously Dean?”

           

The older brother chuckled; he liked making Sam uncomfortable, and he really was talking about all the things he had done with Gabriel. Gabe was Sam’s first boyfriend, Sam having recently come out of the closet six months ago, and he was hesitant to do a lot of things. Dean never found it unsettling or unnatural; he told his brother that if it felt right, then it couldn’t be that bad.

           

Sam and Dean had bonded a lot through Gabriel. Dean had tagged along on a few of their dates, always with Gabe bringing some other chick for Dean to play around with. But Dean never found himself interested in the women Gabe presented him with. He hadn’t been in a relationship in over a year and a half, the last one being to a woman named Lisa that he was with for more than three years, but he just wasn’t interested in loving someone.

           

“By the way,” Sam began cautiously when they got in the car and were beginning the fifteen-minute drive into town, “Gabe is…bringing someone.”

           

Dean rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan, gripping the steering wheel harder, “God, who is it this time? Another psycho broad like Anna, or another prostitute like Ruby? Honestly, you two need to stop trying to set me up with someone! I’m perfectly fine _on my own_!”

           

Sam looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead turned his head and looked out the window. Dean knew he shouldn’t be so harsh on his brother, especially because Sam was concerned for Dean having lost their father just recently and Sam being the only one in his life. If Dean were honest, he would probably be doing the same thing were he in Sam’s shoes, but he was honestly getting tired of him and his boyfriend trying to play match-maker.

           

Getting tired of all the let downs.

* * *

Castiel _loathed_ his brother. Gabriel had to be _the worst_ human being at planning _anything_ on the face of the planet. He said he had mentioned the occasion months ago, but why would he only bring it up once then? “Because Cassie,” He would say hesitantly, “I thought you had a good memory.”

           

Reminding Castiel that he had agreed to go to this stupid reunion with his brother _two hours before it started_? Not a smart idea. And then telling him that he was going to be hanging around with his new boyfriend that Castiel didn’t even know about, thus ruining the only reason Castiel was going in the first place: to make sure his baby brother wasn’t lonely.

           

“You’re lucky I don’t have plans tonight,” Castiel growled, fixing his tie in the mirror best he could next to where Gabriel was trimming his eyebrows like a teenage girl.

           

“You never have plans,” He snickered.

           

Castiel frowned, and couldn’t think of a good comeback to that, because honestly, the bastard was right; he was just a failed-author-turned-history-teacher that didn’t have many friends, certainly no close ones, and spent most of his free time with the only brother that was stuck in this town same as him, and maybe Castiel saw why now that he had some fresh meat to play with.

           

Castiel shuddered at the mental image he just created for himself.

           

“So how come you never told me you have a boyfriend?”

           

Gabriel snorted. “What, jealous?”

           

He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Gabriel…are you embarrassed of me?”

           

His brother turned towards him, a serious expression on his face, peculiar on his usually joking features. “Cassie…do you really think that?”

           

Castiel shrugged and washed his hands. “I don’t care if you are, I would be too; just some loser teacher stuck in some loser town who only hangs out with his loser brother.” He offered a half-hearted smile, and Gabriel saw right through it.

           

“I…I’m sorry Castiel,” He said quietly, setting down his tweezers. “I should’ve introduced you two, and…I don’t really have a good reason as to why I haven’t.” There was a long silence that stretched between the two, and Gabriel said with a smirk, “Maybe I just didn’t want him falling in love with you.”

           

“Oh shut up,” Castiel threw a towel at him, relieved to have his usual brother back. It wasn’t often that they had heart-to-heart conversations, but with the rest of their family multiple states away from them, they had become a lot closer as brothers.

           

“Grab your jacket, loser, we’ve gotta go!” Gabriel cheered as he rushed down the stairs.

           

“I haven’t even fixed my hair!” Castiel called after him and, with a disgruntled huff, he sprayed a splash of cologne on himself before rushing after his brother and hopping in the car mere moments before Gabriel took off.

           

Five minutes into the drive, Gabriel groaned. “Cassie, you forgot your jacket!” Castiel looked down at his simple white button-down shirt and black tie. “You’re going to make me look bad!”

           

“Trust me, you do that yourself,” Castiel mumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “So what am I supposed to do while you and this Sam person are having sex in the bathroom?”

           

“Why I never!” Gabriel proclaimed. “Do you think I am so low a person?”

           

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him.

           

“Well I would at least take him to my car first,” He grinned and opened the glove compartment, revealing a string of condoms inside.

           

Castiel pinched his nose and turned to look out the window. “I hate you.”

           

“You won’t by the end of this.”

           

“Why are you so confident?”

           

“Because, Sammy is…bringing someone.”

           

Castiel glanced back at his brother, who had his signature mischievous grin on his face, and sighed heavily. “Who is she this time? A woman like Lilith who was _at least_ twice my age, or someone like that girl Amelia, who was really, _really_ clingy?”

           

“You’ll see,” Gabriel replied unhelpfully.

           

Castiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hated when his brother tried to butt into his business, especially his love life, which seemed to be occurring more recently—most likely because he had a boy toy and wants Castiel to have the same…pleasures with someone else. He was always looking out for his older brother’s interests, believing it his duty to make him happy, but Castiel didn’t need someone else when he had his books and his students and his cozy fireplace and comfy loveseat. Not that he never pictured curling up with someone else by the roaring flame while he read to them, constantly glancing up into their eyes—eyes he knew he was meant to stare into for eternity—and they would completely ignore his ramblings, choosing to play with his hair or watch his lips before capturing them in their own and swallowing his complaints in a fit of passionate—

           

“Hello? Ground control to Major Tom, come in Major Tom.”

           

Castiel jumped a little, realizing he had gotten lost in his own thoughts again. “What?”

           

Gabriel chuckled. “Getting lost up there with your imaginary lover again?”

           

Castiel scowled at him. “Am not.”

           

“Oh, so you’re just writing more of that romance novel of yours? The one you’ve been stuck on for almost two years?”

           

“I just need…inspiration.”

           

Gabriel snorted and parked the car in a lot filled with new-looking vehicles, consisting of various fancy makes and models, most SUVs. “Don’t we all, sister.”

           

Castiel sighed, undoing his seatbelt. Gabriel set a hand on his arm, and Castiel looked up at him. His brother stared down at him for an unnecessarily long period of time before saying with a straight face, “Do us both a favor and get laid tonight, will you?”

           

Castiel punched his brother in the arm, getting out of the car, heat rising up his neck that contrasted the cool night air. Sometimes his brother could be a real dick.


	2. “What the hell type of reunion is this?!”

Dean didn’t expect much more than what he saw when he pulled into the parking lot, claiming any space that was available. He wanted to ask how many damn people were in Sam’s class, but then he figured that Sam probably didn’t even know, or care for that matter, just like his older brother. The younger Winchester quickly got out and scanned the parking lot, most likely looking desperately for his boy toy, while Dean sighed heavily and followed suit.

           

“Don’t you think he’d be inside if he’s here?” Dean grumbled, shuddering against the frigid breeze. “Don’t you think _we_ should be inside?”

           

Sam ignored him and made his third scan of the parking lot before letting out a small sigh of discontent and closing the Impala’s door a little too harshly, making Dean wince but not enough to warrant a complaint. He followed the younger Winchester into the building, and discovered that he couldn’t hear a damn thing over whatever the hell the DJ was playing. It felt more like a night club than a supposedly respectable get-together of adults.

           

“What the hell type of reunion is this?!” Dean yelled to his brother.

           

Sam laughed, but Dean could only see the motion to tell he was laughing. “It’s a ten year reunion Dean, we’re all still young and up for partying. Maybe at the twenty year one we’ll have shrimp cocktails and champagne glasses.”

           

“Oh god,” Dean groaned, but Sam didn’t catch it. People were throbbing to the beat of the music and pushing up against Dean and Sam, and though Sam seemed to not really care—not that he was paying much attention whilst looking for his Gabe—Dean wasn’t about to contract an STD from some of these sketchier-looking women that were way too intoxicated for the night being so young.

           

“I think I see him!” Sam said excitedly.

           

“Let me guess, by the cake?”

           

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he grabbed Dean’s arm and began dragging him through the crowd, people shoving against him and jamming themselves in his personal business. He was starting to miss the chilly outdoors versus this hot, humid atmosphere, and he felt like he was being suffocated by all the bodies, everyone closing in and making him lose his breath. When there was a break in the crowd, Dean stopped and Sam took another step before looking back at him curiously.

           

“I-I think I’m going to go to the bathroom,” He said breathily.

           

Sam frowned. “Are you—”

           

“I’m fine Sammy, go say hi to Gabe for me,” Dean replied with a weak smile. “I just need a moment.”

           

Sam wasn’t convinced, but nodded curtly and walked away. Dean carefully but quickly made his way over to the wall and looked around for the bathroom, finding it relatively close to him, which lifted a slight amount of the weight off his shoulders. He darted inside and relaxed even further seeing that it was relatively unoccupied, save a guy in one of the stalls that must’ve had some seriously bad shrimp.

           

Dean loosened his tie and took off his suit jacket, leaning over the sink. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and splashed some water on his face before running his shaky fingers through his hair. He looked up at himself, and grimaced at the man staring back.

           

_What the hell is wrong with you Dean?_

           

Dean Winchester used to be the star of school, the center of any social scene; Dean Winchester used to be the one that would be in the middle of that throng of sweaty bodies, grinding it up with half the cheerleading squad. Dean Winchester never wanted to miss a good party and never, ever got anxiety about being around too many people. Dean Winchester was the epitome of popular in their Kansas high school.

           

But now, Dean Winchester was a nobody; Dean Winchester was a had-it-all-lost-it-all. Dean Winchester ran his dead father’s mechanic shop, and probably would for the rest of his life, never going anywhere, never doing anything. He would probably marry some waitress when he realized he was getting too old to not have a family, and they would have two or three kids, who would grow up and go to the same school Dean went to, and if he had a son, he would turn out the exact same as Dean did because history always repeats itself in the Winchester family. Dean would eat burgers too often and go home drunk because he hates what became of his life, probably die in his early or mid-fifties from a heart attack, and Sammy would show up to his funeral, his life perfect in every sense of the word, and read Dean’s name on the tombstone, telling his kids that their uncle was the coolest guy ever when Dean knows that Sammy knows he didn’t do a damn thing in the world but move the dirt it took to bury him.

 

Dean Winchester used to want to be a musician, and he was pretty damn good on the guitar and halfway decent with a set of drums. He had been accepted into a private music college, but his father said that only preppy bastards went to schools like that, and the chances of him becoming someone was slim to none. So Dean went to college in Kansas, hiding his guitar in his closet, and he hadn’t touched it in God knows how long.

 

Dean sighed, scooping up his jacket and walking out of the bathroom, observing the people dancing their lives away, the drone of music nothing more than a distant throbbing in his ears. He wanted to leave, so, so desperately, but he had told Sam he would come, and even if he has to be a third wheel with Sam and Gabe, well, at least Sammy was happy.

 

Scanning the room, he saw his brother and his brother’s boyfriend giggling like school girls by the buffet tables, and though Dean wanted to join them, he knew that wasn’t where he belonged. He didn’t belong anywhere in that building; not with the partiers or the wallflowers or even the sick bastard in the bathroom. Dean could only observe those around him as if they were from a different world entirely, a world he had missed out on, a world he could never hope to know.

 

Dean drifted towards the doorway, standing just outside it and relishing in the cool breeze that came from it whenever it happened to be opened. It was an agreeable medium between the hot party and the freezing night air, and the thought crossed his mind to simply hang out in his car and wait for the text from Sam that would say to go home because he was spending the night with Gabe, and though it would make his skin crawl, a smile would still cross his face because his little brother was happy, and that’s all that mattered to Dean.

 

He turned to walk out when he ran into someone, and whatever alcoholic beverage they were holding spilled all over the front of their dress shirt.

 

“Oh damn, I’m sorry,” Dean sighed, looking around for something to help them but finding nothing of the sort.

 

“It’s fine,” A deep, rumbling voice replied, “I’m not trying to impress anyone anyway.”

 

Dean took his eyes off of the shirt for a moment to see who he had spilled on, and was met with questioning blue eyes and a somewhat scruffy jawline buried underneath a pointed nose and a mess of dark hair. Dean couldn’t help but stare for just a moment longer, captivated, wondering what exactly was happening but not worrying too much about it, before continuing to fuss about the stranger’s shirt.

 

“Really, that was my fault,” The stranger insisted in his scratchy tone, pushing Dean’s fumbling hands away. “I was just getting ready to leave anyway.”

 

“Leave? But the party just started,” Dean said bluntly, completely ignoring the little part of his brain that was reminding him that _he_ was about to leave as well.

 

“No one knows me here, trust me, I won’t be missed.”

 

He said that with a twinge of pain, pain Dean could so easily relate to, and he suddenly found himself thrusting his suit jacket into the man’s arms with a slight grin smeared across his face.

 

“You can wear my jacket since I completely ruined your shirt,” Dean blurted out.

 

He blinked. “It’s fine, honestly, I’ll live—”

 

“I insist.” Dean smiled.

 

He stared at Dean for a moment before slipping it on, buttoning it up to cover the spill. He definitely wore the jacket much better than Dean did. “Do you often go around handing out articles of your clothing to strangers?”

 

“Only the strangers I like,” Dean said with a wink.

 

The stranger looked a bit flustered at that and looked away for a moment.

 

“My name’s Dean,” He said while holding out his hand, attempting to salvage a conversation out of the awkward situation he was creating.

 

Those blue eyes turned back to look at him, questioning, curious, and he reached out to shake his hand cautiously, saying, “Castiel.”

 

“Castiel? Wow…that’s—”

 

“Stupid I know.”

 

“—really cool,” Dean finished with a chuckle. “You don’t like your name?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“Have you ever considered a nickname?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “None have ever really suited me—”

 

“Cas,” Dean interrupted.

 

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Cas. I think that’s a good nickname,” Dean smiled.

 

Castiel cocked his head and thought about it for a moment before smiling softly.

 

“Cas…I like that.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel did not go to parties. He had rarely gone to sleepovers as a child, more so supervised Gabriel’s sleepovers, and he was never invited to high school parties, with alcohol and drugs and the like. Not that he would’ve done that sort of thing, or that he really would’ve gone anyway, but parties were so foreign to him, especially since the atmosphere seemed more like some kind of club rather than a get-together of long lost friends.

           

“This is uncomfortable Gabriel,” Castiel said loudly to his younger brother so as to be heard over the excessively blaring music that was coming out of the speakers right next to the food tables that they were standing by. “Why are we here again?”

           

“Because Cassie, I’m going to get laid tonight,” He grinned. “Also, they have cake!”

           

Castiel rolled his eyes and trudged after his brother, who excitedly grabbed a slice on a plate and offered one to him, but he shook his head, and so Gabriel shrugged and claimed it as his own.

           

“Why do we have to stand right next to the speakers?”

           

“What?”

           

Castiel growled. “Why do we have to stand RIGHT NEXT TO THE SPEAKERS?!”

           

“Jesus Cassie, I heard you the first time!”

           

“Then why…just answer the question!”

           

Gabriel chuckled. “Because we’re here before Sammy and he knows to find me next to the food!”

           

Castiel snorted and muttered, “Wow, he really does know you.”

           

“I heard that!”

           

Castiel rolled his eyes again and crossed his arms, surveying the adults who were shamelessly dancing like they were teenagers again. Like they didn’t have work in the morning and could drink to their hearts content. He felt a sickening feeling in his stomach and a pounding in his head, though he didn’t know if that was from watching the stupidity of these people or the music blasting right in his ear.

           

“I think I’m going to step outside for a moment,” Castiel said to his brother.

           

Gabriel looked at him, mildly concerned, mostly disappointed. “You aren’t leaving?”

           

“No, no, I just need to get away from this music,” Castiel offered with a small smile.

           

“Okay…but don’t leave with my condoms!”

           

The older Novak sighed heavily and walked away from his brother along the wall towards the exit, but didn’t step outside; it was too cold to risk that. Instead, he stood by the door and let the occasional breeze of someone just arriving or someone retiring for the night calm him down. It carried with it the smell of pine and the promise of leaving, which was a welcomed change to the thick air of cologne, perfume, and body odor.

           

Castiel really wanted to just leave, but he wasn’t about to skip out on a promise he had made to his brother, even if he would simply be the third wheel. He did want to meet this “Sammy”, seeing as he made Gabriel act like a little school girl, even if it did mean hanging around alone, uncomfortable…

           

Castiel caught sight of a girl he used to have a crush on…Heather? Hailey?…Hannah! He remembered watching her in study hall, trying to work up the nerve to ask her out, but he never felt right whenever he tried. He knew she was attractive—half the damn school knew she was attractive—but he just could never bring himself to do it. And now, there she was, dancing along with some hot older version of a high school jock. Of course, since then Castiel had discovered that he wasn’t exactly batting for that team, but he was still saddened to see how quickly people move on when you’re so insignificant in their existence.

 

Castiel frowned watching them.

 

What had happened to him? Why couldn’t he be the one with the hot date on his arm and show up everyone and own the building because he felt on top of the world? Why did he feel so…lost? So disconnected?

           

Castiel turned his eyes away from the two of them and saw mysterious beverages on a table next to him, grabbing one and downing it in one go, feeling relieved that it was strong and numbing right away. He took another and glanced back at Hannah, at the smile on her face, the happiness in her eyes that he knew he could never hope to have, and turned to leave, mentally apologizing to Gabriel but knowing that he would understand once Castiel explained to him his situation.

           

And turning around resulted in him having a soaking wet shirt and a fumbling pair of hands attempting to undo the mess they’ve made of him.

           

At first Castiel was mad; hell, he was _furious_. Just fucking _peachy_. But then he glanced up at the man, so apologetic and tired and lost, similar to how he was at that moment, and the slight buzz he had going drifted off, and the numbing sensation became amplified, but for a completely different reason.

           

“Oh damn, I’m sorry,” the man said in a deep voice, a voice that was a different kind of deep from Castiel’s deep; it was deep in the sense of groggy, just-woke-up-from-deep-sleep voice.

           

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, looking down at his shirt and returning to reality. “It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone anyway.”

 

The man looked up from Castiel’s shirt and their eyes met for just the briefest of moments, but for all Castiel knew, it could’ve been eternity. They were forests, deep green and luscious and pure, irises that could dance with the stars but stayed humbly on Earth; they were eyes Castiel could drown in and never regret, surrounded by a dusting of freckles that shifted when the corners of those eyes crinkled with a smile that was so small but spoke more than any smile ever had to Castiel.

 

The stranger interrupted his musings when he continued to try and clean Castiel’s shirt.

 

“Really, that was my fault,” Castiel sighed. “I was just getting ready to leave anyway.”

 

The man looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if he were genuinely curious as to what was happening with dear little Castiel. “Leave? But the party just started.”

 

Castiel felt like swooning.

 

“No one knows me here,” He said bitterly instead, “Trust me, I won’t be missed.”

 

The man set his jaw in a knowing way and smiled softly before giving his suit jacket to Castiel rather suddenly, who held it in his arms, confused. It was warm and smelled of pine, and Castiel wanted to curl up with it instead of give it back.

 

“You can wear my jacket since I completely ruined your shirt,” he said with a chuckle.

 

Castiel stared at him. _Who is this guy?_ “It’s fine, honestly, I’ll live—”

 

“I insist.” He interrupted, patting the jacket with another smile, which would end up being the death of Castiel if they persisted.

 

Castiel hesitated before slowly putting it on, embarrassed at how it practically swallowed him like the child he was compared to this God in front of him. He buttoned it up to cover the stain on his shirt and was relieved to see that it covered it up rather nicely. Instead of keeping an awkward silence between them, he asked casually, “Do you often go around handing out articles of your clothing to strangers?”

 

He laughed. “Only the strangers I like.”

 

Castiel stared at him, caught off guard by his response. _Is he…flirting? No, there’s no way he’s flirting, not with_ me _, pull yourself together._ He realized he had been staring at the stranger while he was thinking and forced back a blush while looking away.

 

“My name’s Dean,” He said while holding out his hand, and Castiel stared at it for a moment, glancing back up at its owner, Dean, such a perfect name. Masculine, suggestive, everything that made Castiel weak in the knees all over again.

 

“Castiel,” He replied shaking Dean’s hand, trying not to wince at how stupid his name was.

 

“Castiel?” Dean seemed to catch on quick. “Wow…that’s—”

 

Castiel sighed, “Stupid I know.”

 

“—really cool,” Dean said with a smile, surprising Castiel. He looked sympathetic as he asked, “You don’t like your name?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“Have you ever considered a nickname?”

 

Castiel held back the need to roll his eyes. The name “Cassie” from his brothers rang a bell, along with a few other choice words he had been called by various ex-boyfriends in the past. “None have ever really suited me—”

 

“Cas.”

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

 

“Cas. I think that’s a good nickname,” Dean suggested with a shrug of the shoulders, letting his hands bury themselves in his pockets, possibly to show off more model poses this guy clearly had to have practiced.

 

Castiel studied him and cocked his head, thinking about the name. _Cas_. He had never been a Cas. It was either “Cassie” or “Castiel”, but never shorter. He wanted to ask Dean to say it again and to convince him that the name definitely sounded suitable when Dean said it, but thought otherwise, instead smiling and saying, “Cas…I like that.”

 

Dean grinned proudly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “So why were you about to leave? Party not exciting enough for you?”

 

“Too exciting, on the contrary,” Castiel, or Cas now, sighed.

 

“What was that?” Dean asked loudly, not hearing Cas over the music.

 

“I said it’s too exciting!”

 

Dean nodded in understanding, looking out on the crowd and a shadow passed over his face, turning his handsome features dark for a moment before he turned back to Cas with his signature smile. “Yea, I didn’t want to come here at all.”

 

“Me neither!” Cas beamed, probably too excited that he wasn’t the only one. “I’m sorry, that’s probably the alcohol kicking in.”

 

“How much did you have?” Dean laughed.

 

“Well you spilled my second glass, but I’ve been known as the family lightweight when it comes to liquor, and whatever I drank, it had a lot,” Cas said, speaking as if it were something to be proud of. Dean chuckled and patted his arm, sending a chill down Cas’s spine.

 

“Do you wanna get some air?” Dean asked, gesturing to the door they were still standing in front of. Cas nodded and the man kindly led him out, and though it were chilly, it was a comfortable change from what they were feeling inside the building. Cas sat down shakily on a bench and Dean chuckled, “I can honestly say this was not how I imagined my night was going to go.”

 

Cas frowned, and felt his heart crack just a little. Did Dean not want him there? Was he being a bother? _Of course you are Cas, you’re a bother to everyone._

 

Dean seemed to read the expression on his face, his eyes widening as he corrected himself, “I’m not complaining Cas! This is probably the best scenario that I could’ve come up with, honestly.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to this whole…‘interacting with others’ thing.”

 

Cas snorted. “Please, I’m sure with your looks and charisma, you had to be the captain of some sports team, parading around school with women all over you for you to use whenever you wanted.”

 

Dean was quiet, and Cas looked over to see him staring at the ground, a frown creased on his features. “Yea…that was me…but I’m not proud of who I was, because it’s lead to who I am. I didn’t take school seriously, and now I’m just some dumbass mechanic.” He ran a hand through his hair.

 

Cas felt guilty, and wanted to apologize, but refrained from doing so, instead saying softly, “Well I didn’t have many friends in high school, if any at all, and I’m just some loser high school teacher.”

 

Dean looked up, but not at Cas; he looked up at the sky, at the stars, and stared at them for a while, thinking about something intently. Cas watched him, fascinated, until Dean asked randomly, “Did you ever want to do something different with your life?”

 

Cas blinked and looked down at his feet. “I wanted to be an author. A best-seller that everyone would read and talk about, someone whose books touched lives. But I haven’t written anything in a good two years, if not more, and I don’t think I ever will.”

 

“Why’s that?” Dean was looking at him now.

 

Cas shrugged. “I’m in this slump, used to a specific way of life: a routine. And I don’t think I’ll be able to break it.” There was a long moment of silence after that until Cas asked, “What about you?”

 

Dean was hunched over his knees, his fingers interlocked, looking out at the fancy cars in front of him, most likely seeing cars he repairs a lot and knows he’ll never be able to own. “I played guitar and a little of the drums in high school, and I was going to go to a music college and be a big musician and write stuff I would want to listen to and make my parents proud of me…”

 

“And?”

 

He sniffed and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “And my dad told me that those dreams were for people that could actually make it and that he was dying and it was my responsibility to take over his shop so that my brother didn’t have to.”

 

Cas winced. “That’s harsh.”

 

“Yea, well, maybe it isn’t so bad,” Dean smiled at him, “If I were a famous musician or you a successful author, we wouldn’t have met tonight.”

 

Cas stared at him, confused by this puzzle of a man, and was about to ask him if he were actually being serious when his phone went off, and he looked at it to see that Gabriel had texted saying that he could go home if he wanted, but he had to find a different ride because he needed the car for his date.

 

Cas wrinkled his nose with a sigh, “God I love family.”

 

“What?”

 

“My brother just texted saying that him and his date need the car tonight so I have to find my own way home,” He grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. He lived too far away to walk; he could call a taxi, even though they’re generally pretty sparse in a small town like this.

 

“I can give you a ride?” Dean offered, innocent as can be, but the notion still made Cas suppress a shudder at a couple thoughts that flicked through his mind.

 

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that—”

 

“Really, it’s no problem. My brother probably is going to go home with his date, and if not then I’ll just drive back,” He smiled. “No big deal. I can’t just let you walk home.”

 

Cas shifted uncomfortably; Dean still was a stranger, but he was charming enough, and if Cas ended up dead on the side of the road somewhere, it’s not like he had anything going for him. He nodded hesitantly, and Dean led him to a black Chevy, a pretty impressive vehicle, and then Cas had to mentally slap himself in the forehead; of course Dean is going to have a nice car, he’s a mechanic.

 

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Dean sighed happily. “The one good thing in my life, for now.”

 

Cas smiled and sat down in the front seat. Dean sat beside him and turned the car on, switching to heat almost instantly, and Cas was reminded how freezing it actually was. Dean started to drive, and they made small talk all the way to Cas and Gabriel’s place.

 

“Nice digs,” Dean nodded approvingly.

 

Cas shrugged. “My parents left it for whoever was left in this town when they left.”

 

“I like it,” Dean grinned, and suddenly seemed to realize that this meant they would have to part ways. It was weird, because they weren’t good friends, but they seemed to have bonded over something that night, and Cas definitely didn’t expect that, or to come out of the evening with a nickname as charming as “Cas”.

 

“Well it was nice to meet you,” Cas got out quickly, walking around the front of the car.

 

“Hey wait,” Dean said, and Cas paused just outside his door. “I, uh…I hope to see you around again.” He held out his hand and smiled, a sweet smile that made his eyes crinkle and the freckles shift and the stars sparkle and Cas couldn’t help but stare at him, caught in the trance that was Dean.

           

Cas shook his hand, still slightly dazed, and said possibly the cheesiest thing his mind could possibly come up with:

           

“It was enchanting to meet you, Dean.”

 

The two stared at each other for a moment after that, both stunned by the odd statement, and Castiel turned around and practically ran inside his house, leaning against his door and hitting the back of his head against it, muttering _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ over and over again.

           

It was only after he heard Dean’s car drove off that he remembered his jacket that he still had on.


	3. "You're confused."

Dean didn’t play any music during the drive back to his house. He had texted Sammy saying that he was going home, and his brother said he didn’t need the ride anyway, as Dean had suspected would be the case. So Dean would be alone for that evening. He walked into his shack of a place, cold, dark, and took a seat in front of the barren fire. He didn’t want to start one because then he’d have to stay up to make sure the house burned down, but then he didn’t really want to sleep anyway. He was tired, but in a different sense of the word, one that made him smile and put the logs on the fire.

           

_“_ _It was enchanting to meet you, Dean.”_

           

The words were still echoing around in Dean’s head, like a song he couldn’t stop singing, but one he didn’t want to stop singing. At least not anytime soon. The voice, _his_ voice, was still so distinct in his mind; the way he sounded out words carefully, as any good teacher would, and just how deep it was…the memory alone sent a chill down his spine.

           

Dean started up the fire and went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, before nestling into the armchair in front of the fire. It took a moment to get a real blaze going, but the flames were so mesmerizing after that. They danced, and when Dean stared into them, he felt as if he were back in the club, at the dance, where there was only him and Cas.

           

_“Dean,” Cas smiles. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”_

_“I couldn’t stay away,” Dean laughs, and looks around._

_“It’s better without everyone else.”_

_“_ _That’s for sure…” Dean glances at Cas, at the way he holds himself, the hint of a smile on his face and his pale skin that contrasts almost angelically with his dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. “Cas…”_

_“_ _You’re confused,” He states, smiling at Dean._

_Dean nods solemnly. “I just…I don’t understand what’s happening.”_

_“_ _You’re changing, Dean.”_

_“For the better?”_

_Cas cocks his head and walks over, placing a hand on his cheek and studying him intently, searching for something with narrowed eyes. He asks, “What do you think?”_

_Dean reaches up and takes Cas’s hand, holding it in his own, and replies lowly, “I think I never got my suit jacket back from you.”_

_Cas smiles, that smile that isn’t an obnoxious smile like Dean’s, but a smile that is small and usually goes unseen, but speaks mountains more than anything Dean could ever get across. It’s like a punch to Dean’s gut, but in a way that’s so much better; Dean wants to hold that smile, wake up to that smile, laugh with that smile, and never stop being entranced by_ that smile _._

_“_ _I think you’ve found your answer,” Cas mumbles, stepping away._

_Dean’s chest starts to hurt and he rushes forward. “But how do I find you again?”_

_Castiel simply smiles and disappears._

Dean wakes up with a start, panicking that he had fallen asleep and looking around to make sure the world wasn’t burning, and settled down seconds later to find everything intact, even the half-drunk beer in his hand. He downed the rest of it in one big gulp before walking to his kitchen and tossing it in the trash. He leaned over the sink, splashing water on his face, and patted himself with a towel. He propped himself against the counter and ran wet fingers through his hair.

           

Did he like Cas?

           

Dean hardly even knew the guy! He had just met him that night and they didn’t even exchange numbers or anything (even though technically Dean knew where he lived). Sure, they had a decent conversation, but that didn’t mean he was lusting after the man.

           

Dean swallowed.

           

He hadn’t even thought of the fact that he was questioning himself on his sexuality.

           

The idea of liking men had crossed his mind before, in high school when there was this one kid in his chemistry class with soft brown eyes that was always so sweet to a dumbass like himself…and it’s not like he was completely giving up chicks if he did happen to like men. If he wanted, he could still settle down with a nice girl and raise a couple kids and live a life his father wanted him to lead…

           

Dean frowned.

           

Why was he always doing stuff his _dad_ would’ve wanted? Even after the old man was gone, Dean continued to live as if he were looming over his shoulder, barking orders in his ear and micromanaging his life as he used to. Sammy had no problem forgetting him once he was gone; the two were never really close to begin with. Dean wished he felt like that, like he didn’t owe his father anything.

           

Would his dad care that both his sons were somewhat into men?

           

Most definitely.

           

But…would his mom?

           

Dean’s mom died when he was young, but he still remembered how sweet and beautiful she was. He always thought he would grow up and find a woman just like her, but they seemed as distant as the memories of Mary Winchester herself. She always wanted what was best for Dean, even at the small age of four.

           

No, Mary wouldn’t care if Dean liked Cas. She would only care if it made Dean happy.

           

Sammy wouldn’t mind at all either, considering how he has a boyfriend; he’d probably laugh at the irony if Dean were to tell him. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to, because he didn’t know if he and Cas were really anything, even friends, at this point. The town wasn’t that big, so the chances of not seeing him again were slim, but could he do more than smile and wave before moving on, as social protocol would dictate?

           

“I need more beer,” Dean grumbled.

           

He wished Cas were there now, to talk him through it as he was in his dream. To help him see if he did like him, and what they would do if Cas happened to like him back as well. Would they become boyfriends? Would they walk down the street holding hands and sharing stolen kisses like a couple of teenagers still new to the idea of loving someone else?

           

Dean never thought he wanted any of that.

           

Not until he remembered those ocean eyes, and he suddenly felt desperate to drown.

 

* * *

 

  

Cas stayed leaning against his front door enveloped in Dean’s suit jacket for a long time. He would’ve normally gotten home and made himself some tea before settling down onto a chair and propping open whatever latest book he had been enjoying, but the poor man couldn’t find a moment’s peace inside his mind to actually make himself move. The jacket still smelled of pine, of Dean, and in his head, Cas pictured a million scenarios where he would give the jacket back.

           

He runs into Dean at the supermarket and just so happens to have his jacket in his car.

           

Cas looks up where Dean lives and delivers it to his house, maybe just ringing the doorbell and leaving and having Dean chase him down the street, or maybe waiting for him to open the door, to see Cas, and a beam would light up his face and he would invite him inside and they would talk for an unnecessarily long time and—

           

“Stop it,” Castiel growled to himself. “He doesn’t like you, he isn’t going to ever like you, and you’re just going to hurt yourself if you keep doing this.”

           

He knew he was right, but he still couldn’t help picturing Dean’s embrace, his large, warm hands wrapped around him, cupping his face, his soft lips being wetted by his flickering tongue, getting lost in those forests of his eyes and then having to close his own when those plump lips are pressed against his own and his breathing is cut off—

           

“Dammit!” Cas banged the back of his head against his door, tears forming in his eyes but not from the pain; he always did this. He always got so caught up in the romanticism of everything, got lost daydreaming and getting his hopes up, only to have his spirits crushed when reality came crashing in and slapped him in the face like it always did.

           

He could never have Dean. He was way out of Cas’s league, and would result in Cas getting too attached only to have his heart shattered in a million pieces like with all the other boyfriends he had gotten serious with. He was as unobtainable as his goal to become an author.

           

There was a knock on the door, making Cas jump and his heart race.

           

_That can’t be Dean…did he come back for his jacket? For me?_

_Oh shut up Cas, you know he didn’t come back for you, he wants his damn jacket back._

_But what if he likes me, wants me, wants something to happen here?_

_Then you must have a Fairy Godmother or something, because that would take a miracle._

           

Cas stood and opened the door cautiously, only to see that it was actually Gabriel and his boyfriend, both giggling and hanging off of each other. Gabriel was a midget compared to his beanstalk of a boyfriend; giant, cropped brown hair, and a very nice build. His younger brother really could pick them.

           

“Hiyah Cassie,” Gabriel grinned, and they both started giggling again.

           

Cas frowned. “Please tell me you didn’t drive home drunk.”

           

“Oh no we stole some drinks from the party, drove here, and then got wasted in the car,” Gabriel laughed, poking his boyfriend’s nose. “It was Sammy’s idea. He’s always looking out for my safety.”

           

“Mmhmm,” Cas sighed, stepping aside to let the happy couple in. This wasn’t how he planned to meet his brother and his brother’s boyfriend, but maybe life is funny that way. Cas smiled to himself; that sounded like something Dean would say. “Let me get you two some water before you go defile our parents’ home.”

           

Castiel went over to the sink and got two glasses for the gentleman, and walking over, Gabriel was looking at him strangely.

           

“I don’t remember you wearing a jacket,” Gabriel said, wrinkling his nose.

           

“That’s because I wasn’t,” Cas replied quietly.

           

Sam was also looking at him funny, but didn’t comment on it.

           

“Where did you get the jacket?”

           

Cas sighed. “Someone spilled alcohol on me so they gave me their jacket and drove me home.”

           

“Well that escalated quickly,” Gabriel snickered. “Was it a quickie in the bathroom or full-on in the car?”

           

Heat rushed to Castiel’s face and he turned away from his brother. “It was nothing like that Gabe!” The room was quiet, and Cas turned back around, saying quietly, “I could never have him anyway…he’s way out of my league and probably isn’t even into men.”

           

Gabriel frowned and stood quickly, shouting, “Where is he?! I’ll smite him where he stands and get revenge for him crushing my older bro’s heart!”

           

Sam started laughing and Cas rolled his eyes. “Sit down Lancelot. I never got his number or anything, so we probably will never see each other again.”

           

Gabriel sighed. “I’m sorry Cassie.”

           

Castiel shrugged.

           

Sam smiled widely and patted Gabriel’s leg hard. “Gabe! Let’s invite him out to lunch tomorrow with my brother! You can finally meet him, and maybe they’ll hit it off or something.”

           

Castiel frowned; he didn’t like his brother setting him up like this.

           

“That would be perfect!” Gabriel gasped. “Sammy you’re so smart.”

           

The two made gooey eyes at each other on the couch and Cas just sat there, having no say in the matter whatsoever. He retreated to his room upstairs, changing into his pajamas, going through his nightly routine before climbing into bed. The jacket was on the table next to him, and he reached over and felt the soft fabric once more before turning his back on it and closing his eyes.

           

It was time he forgot Dean.

           

Some things were meant to be forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for taking forever to post this damn thing, and it being so short. End of the year exams and everything have me drained. I pinky promise to finish the story within the week!  
> Also, the sentence I finished Dean's POV with is actually a quote I saw on tumblr, though I don't know who said it.  
> "You should have seen the way he was looking at you. Like you're the ocean, and he's desperate to drown."


End file.
